


Love and Basketball

by outlawrites



Category: South Park
Genre: Bisexual Character, Boys In Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Issues, Fluff and Angst, Gay Male Character, Homophobia, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 03:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6313522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outlawrites/pseuds/outlawrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stan is tired of football. Stan is in love with Kyle. These two things are not related, no matter what Randy Marsh seems to think.<br/>----<br/>Excerpt:</p><p>“What does he think, anyway? That because you go out for the teams that you’re what, a LESS-GAY GAY? Does he think that by dating me you’ll make me straighter???”</p><p>Kyle looked at Stan with weary sympathy. “Dude. We’ve been over this. Please, please don’t ever ask me to try answering any “What is Randy thinking?”questions. That would require me to think like your father- and I want nothing to do with the insides of that man’s head.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Basketball

**Author's Note:**

> This story started off as background for another fic I've been writing, and eventually it grew so much I knew it was a standalone.
> 
> Inspiration for this story came from seeing AMAZING pictures like these:
> 
> http://kayotics.deviantart.com/art/we-playin-basketball-374190540 (This is how I picture them here.)
> 
> http://desthpicable.deviantart.com/art/personal-cheerleader-424942029 (Though for my story this would be back when they were middle-school age and more insecure.)
> 
> New Addition, with Permission: HOW KYLE LOOKS TO STAN ON THE COURT: http://marcobodtschickennuggets.tumblr.com/post/140619661842/kyle-in-some-basketball-shorts-b
> 
> How I picture Stan's music sounding; the song "Company" on this page: https://www.sonicbids.com/band/thehotandheavy/audio/ (Seriously, give it a listen, this band was AMAZING and I don't know what happened to them ;__; )  
> I've never written Style before though, so please let me know if I've done the boys justice!

Stan and Kyle had a problem.

It wasn’t a problem that was preventing them from living their lives yet.  Since they were kids they’d kept learning a lot about themselves, a day a time. Kyle learned that he didn’t care if people talked shit about his sports skills- he was going to work to improve them. Stan learned that part of enjoying his life again was focusing on the things that actually made him _feel_ , like music did, and dumping the things that didn’t REALLY do it for him anymore. And they both learned that super best friends made the best boyfriends.

So, now they were halfway through high school, both of them had decent grades, Kyle had his basketball and Stan had his guitar and they had, well, _each other_. Which was related to the problem, but was not itself the problem. Actually, _Stan_ was “related to” the problem.

Randy. Randy was the problem.

He just wouldn’t accept that his son liked dudes. Wouldn’t hear about it. And even before Stan tried to bring up the subject, things had been messed up for awhile. Ever since Stan lost interest in football during middle school, Randy had become insufferable.

Stan still liked watching on TV, he just wasn’t into playing the sport anymore, especially because every grade he went up, the coaches seemed to demand more violence and force from the players.

One afternoon in eighth grade, Kyle had found him sitting alone in the locker room still geared up, just staring at the wall. He apparently didn’t respond to his name or much of anything until Kyle was standing right in front of him, snapping his fingers.

* * *

 

“DUDE!”

Stan’s head jerked up and he dropped the helmet he’d been holding. He looked up at Kyle, saying nothing.

Kyle looked frightened, pale under his fading summer-freckles. “Dude, what’s going ON?”

Stan frowned, sorting through the ideas, trying to find what he wanted to say. “I..um. Did you hear how that coach was talking, dude?”

Kyle rolled his eyes, relaxing a little now that Stan was responding. “The one visiting from the high school? Yeah. He needs to chill the fuck out.”

Stan huffed out a little laugh, his mind feeling a little clearer now that he could talk out his thoughts with Kyle. “Ah, yeah. But um…more than that. He was talking about what football is like at the high school?”

“Yeah?” Kyle nodded.

Stan continued, feeling bolder. “I mean. Is it just me or does that sound all kinds of fucked up? Like, he made it sound like he wants us to put the other team in the _hospital_.”

Kyle’s mouth compressed to a grim little line. “Mm. You’re not wrong there. Some of the players he brought along for the visit were sitting with me in the bleachers. They said some people from the team have dropped out because they didn’t like what he asked them to do.” He looked at Stan, concern painted across his face. “I mean. Maybe they were exaggerating?”

Stan, feeling nauseous, shook his head. “No way. You saw how that guy was today. What did they tell you about why people left?”

Kyle hummed, thinking. “Well, they said some left for ‘personal reasons’ but other than that it was mostly stuff like really big linebackers being told to use full force, regardless of their opponents’ size.  They said they were afraid they’d end up really hurting someone permanently and having it on their conscience.” Kyle looked uncomfortable. “I mean I guess I can see why they’d- Stan?”

Stan had stood up and was undressing, his mouth stretched wide in a grin. There’d be time enough to shower up when he got home. “Thanks, Kyle.”

Kyle blinked. “…for what? Stan (not that it isn’t great!) but why are you smiling like that-?”

Stan shed the last of his gear, beaming, lighter than air. “I’m quitting the team.”

“What?!”

Stan put up a reassuring hand, using his other to tug his pants up. “Not this year! Don’t worry; I wouldn’t fuck over the guys like that. But I’m just” he shrugged, “I’m not into this anymore. It’s not who I am. I’ve actually been kinda burned out for awhile, but hearing that the things I hate about it the most are only getting _worse_ on the next level up- that just makes the decision easier. So, thanks, Kyle.”

Kyle had been blinking, open-mouthed for a few moments now, but smiled tentatively back now. “Oh. So that’s why you’ve been so down lately?” He fidgeted with his gym bag. “Well! You’re welcome then, I guess.” A shadow crossed his face. “But maybe don’t tell anyone about this talk? They’ll think it’s MY fault we’re losing our QB.”

Stan laughed, weightless, and slung an arm around Kyle’s shoulders. “Hah! Super-Best secret, you got it, man.”

Kyle grinned back openly, a blush spreading across his nose, his eyes flicking around Stan’s giddy expression. “It’s nice to see you in such good spirits again, Stan.”

“Well, I’m _feeling_ good!” He eyed Kyle. “About uh, a lot of things…” He swallowed audibly, suddenly very aware of things that stress had made him forget lately. Like how nice Kyle’s shampoo smelled when he got all heated up like this, and how green and bright his eyes were. Kyle’s eyes were wide, currently, and he was shaking a little under Stan’s arm. But he didn’t move away. Stan didn’t either.

Maybe some time passed that way. Maybe a little too much time to write off, for the millionth time.

Stan licked his lips, staring at Kyle’s. “Hey, Ky?”

“Mm. Mhm?” murmured Kyle, staring back at him.

“Do I have to go ask the principal for some consent forms or-”

And then Kyle was surging forward, one hand on the back of Stan’s head, kissing him full on the mouth- making it easily, hands down, one of the best days of Stan’s life.

* * *

 

Unfortunately ‘kissing in private’ stopped being as exciting when it was all you were _allowed_ to do.

At first, though, the boys were fine with it. They'd both agreed they wanted privacy while they explored having this change in their relationship, anyway. There was only a few months left before they started high school, and they wanted to enjoy it without extra attention on their personal lives.  Actually, they didn’t feel like it was anyone else’s business at ALL, but they both knew very well that secrets didn’t survive in small towns, and they wanted to be very comfortable and sure before they let anyone else know.

Kenny, though, they told pretty much _immediately_. He was a sharp kid, and always observing the people around him. If they didn’t tell him, he’d figure it out too quickly and maybe say too much without meaning to; but if they told him and said it was a secret he could easily keep his mouth shut.

That’s when they discovered that a.) Kenny was the perfect first person to tell because he could help them lie to everyone else and b.) Kenny had a secret boyfriend of his own.

Apparently he’d been sneaking into Butters’ window to drink hot chocolate, color and have messy make-outs for over a year. Considering how those two acted around each other, and how unreasonable Butters’ parents were, Kyle said they probably shouldn’t have been surprised.

Kenny had nodded wearily at that assessment. “Stephen and Linda don’t want me to even SPEAK to their child unless it’s about schoolwork. Because I’m ‘below their family’s standards’. And they don’t even know about the relationship part.” He shrugged. “Too bad for them that their son is fucking adorable and can’t get enough of me sooo-” he finished with a thumbs up.

“Good for you, Kenny!” Stan said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, man!” said Kyle, his smile broad.  Kenny just grinned.

                              ***************

So the next step, after a year or so, _should_ logically have been "tell their parents"…

But of course they didn’t tell them, because fuck that noise, they might not let them have sleepovers anymore. Who needs the hassle? Eventually they’d tell everyone, but for now…

Months passed.

Kyle’s parents already knew their son was gay because he’d told them when he’d figured it out in 7th grade. Kyle had overheard his Mom talking to his Dad about how they might need to help him meet a nice Jewish girl when he was ready to date. Sheila had been concerned that Kyle would be lonely trying to find someone in South Park who understood his faith.  Kyle, finally past the point where fear of parental disapproval drove him to twist himself up, nipped that in the bud pretty quickly.

Adjustment period of a few hours aside, the Broflovskis had taken it pretty well. A few weeks later Sheila started saying things like “Kyle can still have a nice family! He can adopt someday like his father and I did with his little brother!”

The subject was mostly left at that, and the Broflovskis just didn’t discuss it with people in town because as Gerald put it “It’s Kyle’s business when he wants people to know.” They’d been alright with the news that he was going steady with Stan too, when the boys eventually decided to tell them.

Stan’s parents on the other hand…

Well.

Sharon heard and understood everything. She was very kind and supportive and told Stan that it didn’t change anything except what he wanted it to change. She hugged him, and she and Stan cried a little, but it was ultimately an enormous relief.

She asked if he wanted her to be there when he told his father, but he thought it would be difficult enough without adding another person- and he wanted to do this on his own. He’d mostly only told her first to get some confidence, because he thought she’d be easier to tell than...well. His Dad.

And Randy made it difficult, of course. He’d been drawing out hearing this for nearly _three years_. At first Stan was too shy to even begin to tell him, so that was on himself. Kind of. But then he tried, and-

Holy crap it was so fucking _frustrating_.

Every few months Stan would think it was a good time to have the talk. Randy would be in a good mood, things were calm at home, no big worries on the horizon. So he’d start bringing it up- and suddenly Randy remembered he had work to do, or somewhere to go. If he couldn’t leave, he just kept awkwardly changing the subject, talking about other things, never letting Stan get the words out. Or he would pretend to be too drunk to understand. Or to remember.

Honestly, it made Stan cry sometimes, on his worst nights. He just wanted it over with. If his Dad was going to hate him, he just, at this point he just wanted to know? So it was over?

The worst was, until Stan finally got him to understand, he felt the need to continue this bizarre farce that he and Kyle weren’t boyfriends, just in case Randy freaked out about it. His Dad’s behavior was so _awkward_ and irritating. If he saw Stan and Kyle acting like a couple he’d laugh uncomfortably and say something like “Hey now, boys, it’s good to have friends, but you better knock that off if you don’t want people to get the wrong idea!” And the boys would either go about their business or just leave Randy’s vicinity.

It was really fucking up how much Stan could enjoy being with Kyle, because there was always this stupid barrier to acting naturally, to being affectionate in public or at his own house. The only place they didn’t have to hold back was basically at the Broflovskis’.

Kyle never blamed him for not being able to push through Randy’s willfully obtuse nonsense, but they were on the verge of being out to the whole town, and this one thing holding them back made them both antsy.

But still, Kyle was painstakingly kind to Stan about the whole situation. He knew what it looked like when Stan’s anxiety turned to depression, when his fears turned inward to eat him alive. So, no matter how many times Stan brought it up, Kyle would reassure him that Randy didn’t hate him, and wouldn’t kick him out for the truth.

Kyle would pull Stan over to his bed and tuck Stan under his chin. He’d stroke his back and play with his hair until Stan felt calmer or fell asleep. If they were at school and Kyle started to see that look cross Stan’s face, he’d distract him with class-work or by asking Stan to show him something on the guitar. When that failed, he’d lead Stan away to the boy’s room and listen patiently, letting him cry and express how angry and scared the whole situation made him feel.

No, Kyle never pushed- not about this. After all, he’d known what Randy was like since they were kids. Really, it was _Stan_ that couldn’t stomach how he was handling it- Stan who had trouble eyeing himself up in the bathroom mirror in the morning.

Honestly? He was just about at his fucking wits’ end. And the weirdest part was that if his Dad guessed anything, he didn’t tell him to stop seeing Kyle or anything like that. If anything, Randy encouraged him to come over and hang out with Stan _all the time_. He was always asking about Kyle’s victories on the court and crowing over the play-by-plays. It made Stan’s head spin.

* * *

 

Once they’d reached high school, Kyle had joined up with the basketball team, and trained his ass off to become one of their best players. Stan liked to go watch his games and cheer him from the sidelines. Sometimes when none of their other friends went, he sat there with his notebook, attempting to sketch how Kyle looked out there, or writing song lyrics. (Or composing sappy poetry he kept a secret from _everyone_ , _including_ Kyle.)

Stan felt proud of how hard Kyle had worked to get this far, and more than a little turned on, honestly, at how well the confidence and athleticism looked on his tall boyfriend. (Stan was shorter by about half an inch, currently, but he expected to catch up soon, if genetics were any indication.) He knew he wasn’t alone in admiring how Kyle moved on the court, or how he looked in those shorts ( _hot damn_ , maybe “training his ass **_off_** ” was a poor choice of words).

But beyond that, he was just so proud of Kyle for achieving his goal to make the team, and so pleased at the effect it had on him. Kyle’s health was the best it had been in years. Kyle’s self-confidence from knowing that he really _earned_ his spot because he kicked ass at the game also looked good on him.

He was sought-after by the other members of the team during drills for his speed and endurance, but he was always patient with less-experienced guys on the team, and had earned a reputation as a fair teacher if you asked for his help. It was a common thing for Stan to walk into the gym to pick him after practice and see Kyle surrounded like a general or a starlet. He’d be talking, toweling off his neck and forehead, a group of younger teammates and underclassmen around him, asking him questions with impressed looks.

Stan was occasionally torn between happiness that Kyle’s hard-work was being recognized by so many people, and a slightly frightened jealousy over all these fawning admirers eyeing up his boyfriend like that. But it never lasted more than a few seconds. The minute he showed up, Kyle would look up at him over the crowds and grin delightedly, as if to say “There you are, finally!” Like all those other people didn’t even matter. And, Stan guessed, that was the difference between him and Kyle’s teammates or fans. They were excited to see Kyle; Kyle was the most excited to see _him_.

And then, there were match days.

Stan would show up early to the games for a good seat, and chat with the kid selling the snacks or the cheerleaders while they were still warming up. Then the crowds would slowly filter in, the room filling with chatter and the buzz of excited fans. Stan would watch the other team when they came out. He sized them up, guessing who he thought might give Kyle the most trouble, but was always ultimately unworried because Kyle was a determined whirlwind in sneakers and no one was going to stop him for long.

Stan always felt the buzz of anticipation along his skin, enjoying a rush of adrenaline-by-proxy when Kyle stepped out onto the court. He thought it was too corny to tell Kyle, but every time, Stan thought about how appropriate that word was- “ _court_ ”. Because Kyle had never stopped being his King; and when he entered the game, Stan knew he was going to rule over all these other pretenders who thought they belonged here. All the people who dared set foot onto Kyle’s territory.

Stan loved cheering for him, was excited to see how hard he was concentrating and pushing himself, and he reveled in those moments when Kyle would look at him ecstatically after he made a really good basket as if to say “DID YOU SEE THAT, DUDE?” Sometimes he’d throw him a little head-nod from the floor which (Stan did not need the cheerleaders to confirm) meant “That one was for you.” 

And Kyle didn’t need to say a word about how much he enjoyed playing- Stan knew that he loved every minute of it, every challenge. He could see it all over him, from his face to his body language to the bounce in his step even after an exhausting match. 

So, yeah, overall, Kyle’s acceptance to the team was a boon for the school, and consistent source of joy and fun for him and Stan. Kyle got happy from playing, and Stan got a happy Kyle who liked pressing him up against walls after he got back from the showers.

Best of all possible worlds, really, as far as Stan was concerned.

* * *

 

But even with all those benefits, it was still fucking infuriating to know that no matter what he did, nothing would EVER be as impressive to his father as _this_ ; because _Kyle_ was in a _SPORT_.

Stan had talents! He was getting better with his guitar all the time, he had the best grades in his whole class for Environmental Studies, his scores in English were improving every year, and his Tech Ed teacher said that Stan had an advanced grasp of the engineering principles behind their lessons. He’d even been compiling a book of his original songs and was thinking about picking some to record. Like, shouldn’t some of that been _worth_ something?

It hurt Stan that he couldn’t share who he really was with his father, and it hurt almost worse that he had to lie about so much of his relationship with Kyle. It fucking killed him that despite their lifelong friendship and seeing what a good guy Kyle was to his son, that Randy only put up with their closeness as long as they continued the façade of hetero bullshit. In everything but name, they were clearly a couple. It was practically _out there_ , and Randy _still_ encouraged them to spend time together; but he refused to hear what Stan was trying to tell him. It was _ridiculous._

Like now, when Stan was being subjected to another marble-mouthed drunken ramble in front of the TV.

“Now, _Kyle_. That boy is a good influence on you, Stan. You should try out for more at school!”

“Like Drama, Dad?” said Stan facetiously, eyes still on the screen, fed up with this bullshit for today.

Randy sighed expansively and rolled his eyes. “Very funny, Stan.”

 _No,_ Stan thought sadly, seeing a bottle tip up out of the corner of his eye, _it’s really not, Dad._

* * *

 

The next morning at the bus stop found Stan venting his frustration to Kyle before the other boys arrived. (An unfortunately increasing occurrence, these days.)

“What does he _think_ , anyway? That because you go out for the teams that you’re what, a _LESS-GAY_ GAY? Does he think that by _dating_ me you’ll make me _straighter_???”

Kyle looked at Stan with weary sympathy. “Dude. We’ve been over this. Please, _please_ don’t ever ask me to try answering any “What is Randy thinking?”questions. That would require me to think like your father- and I want nothing to do with the insides of that man’s head.” He blinked sleepily, and shifted his schoolbag. “I know it bothers you dude, but let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth okay? At least as long as he has these stupid ideas, he won’t get in the way of our time together.”

Stan kicked the ground, frustrated and sad.

“Seriously, Stan. I _know_ it’s upsetting and shitty, but at least we can _see_ each other. Look at what poor Kenny has to put up with to get at Butters! I think he’s almost fallen out of that damn tree outside the Stotches’ place at least 16 times by now. It’s a miracle he hasn’t _died_ or been seriously injured.”

(Somewhere on the other end of town, Kenny scowled, suddenly and inexplicably irritable.)

Stan sighed. Kyle leaned in and gave him a hug, trying to cuddle him under the arm that wasn’t holding up his backpack. “Ughhh,” Stan turned to rest his head on Kyle’s shoulder. “This BLOWS, dude.”

“Stanley!” Kyle said, bringing one hand up to cover his mouth in fake shock, “No _blowing dudes_ in public!”

Stan snorted against Kyle’s coat. “That was bad.”

“Well, I’m out of options, Stan” said Kyle matter-of-factly. “At this time of the morning without my coffee, if physical affection fails to help, I have nothing left but bad jokes, dude. I am only human.” He breathed out, the noise brusque but understanding, and rubbed a hand on the back of Stan’s neck.

“Listen.” He said in a softer voice. “Either they’ll get used to us, or we’ll get the hell out of here. Whichever one comes first. We just, I don’t know. We’ve gotta keep it together till then, ok?”

Stan nodded against Kyle’s shoulder, and Kyle understood that was as much response as he was going to get today.  The bus arrived shortly thereafter.

* * *

 

Today was the day. No more excuses. No more diversions. There was a school dance in three weeks, and Stan wanted Kyle there, officially, as his date, as his **boyfriend**. He wasn’t going to stand for less this time. It was going to be their anniversary, for God’s sake- if the time was ever coming, it might as well be now.

Three weeks. If Randy had a big enough problem with it, that should be enough time for Stan’s Mom to either smooth it over, or for Stan to find a new place to-. Stan swallowed a lump in his throat.

Thinking like that wasn’t going to do him any favors right now. He wandered down into the living room.

“Dad? Hey.”

Randy looked up from the couch, bottle in hand. “Yeah, Stan? What’s up? What’s the hapsss?”

Stan frowned. _Wow, I’m already annoyed_. He shook his head to clear it. “You’re not doing anything right now, right?”

Randy looked around him at the couch, and then lifted up the remote to mute the TV. “Nah. I’ve seen this one before. The kid collecting money for homeless people wins the final baking challenge.”

 _Oh, God, not cooking shows again. Shit. **Focus** , Stan **.**_ “Good! Good. I uh, need to talk to you about something, Dad.”

Randy sat up cheerfully. “Well sure thing, son. Is it a school thing? Need me to sign a permission slip or something?”

Stan shook his head. “No. It’s not like that.” Randy started to look uncomfortable so Stan forged ahead quickly. “It’s about my orientation.”

Randy froze like a deer on the highway. “Hah! Hah…g-good one, Stan. You, uh, haven’t even put in any school applications yet. It’s, you know, waaay too soon for any orientations.” His hand edged toward the remote again.

“DAD. No. Not that kind of orientation. I mean the kind of people I like to go out with? It’s-”

Randy, clearly sensing Stan broaching the subject of his sexuality and partnership with Kyle, began blinking profusely, a nervous look on his face. “Now, _Stan_ , I don’t think we should be talking about this right now, you’re, uh, you’re still _tired_ this early, don’t know what you’re saying-”

Okay, that was it. Three years. ENOUGH. Stan’s pent up feelings erupted in a rush of words and expressive arm waving and possibly _air quotes_ , he wasn’t entirely sure. “ **GAY**. Dad, I’m gay. Bisexual, **_actually_** , but I’m with Kyle and that’s _Not Going Away_. I ‘Like Dudes’. Specifically, Kyle. Do you want to hear details? BECAUSE _HAVE I GOT DETAILS, DAD_.” He was definitely shouting by the end, and took a second to breathe in and collect himself.

Randy had been stumbling backwards away from the couch during this explosion for some time now, sputtering indignantly, bottle clutched to his chest, and Stan suddenly realized he was _seconds_ from shouting the minutiae of what he and Kyle did together _at his father_.

 _Jesus_.

How did his Dad _do_ that? How did he always bring out the _worst_ \- Stan wanted to scream. There was nothing wrong or hateful about Kyle and he being together, but _here he was_ , about to use the details of their love life as a goddam _weapon_ because Randy Marsh made everything a fucked up mess. He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You know what? I’m _done_ with this. Come see me tomorrow, or in ten years, or whenever it is when you sober up, and we can have a polite discussion about this if you really feel it’s still necessary. But I’ve said my piece. And I’m not going to sit here and let you turn everything I love into something shitty. I’m Bi. I like dudes too. I’m in love with Kyle. You SHOULD be happy for me. Period.”

He turned furiously towards the front door, determined to put as much distance between himself and this house for the next few hours as possible- but paused at the frame, remembering something.

“And Dad? Don’t you fucking drink to forget this because I _promise_ you; it’s still going to be here when you wake up. I’m **not** going to hurt myself or Kyle by hiding just to protect you anymore. You’re gonna have to **deal**. Bye.”

He banged the screen-door open, fleeing down off the stoop. In the rush, he ran into his mother just as she left her car, home from getting the groceries. “Stan! Whoa, where are you going in such a hurry?”

He used the collision as an excuse for a brief hug, then pulled back and kept walking away backwards, facing his mother and talking. “I told him, Mom. Like. Everything.”

His Mom’s gaze jerked, wide eyed, over at the house and then back to Stan. Stan froze, mid-step at the end of the driveway, heart in his mouth until-

 Sharon waved him along, compassion in her gaze, “Go on, honey. He’s had this coming for a looong time.” Her chin lifted up as she glanced back at the house with a narrowed gaze; she hefted a grocery bag to her hip, slamming the car door shut.  “Mommy’s got this.”

Stan, nearly shuddering with relief, left to find Kyle.

* * *

 

Sharon swept into the house like a thunderstorm. “RANDY MARSH! Get over here, RIGHT this instant!”

Randy slouched in from the living room, sullen looking, like a child who’d been faking sick and got caught. “What, _Sharon_?”

“You know VERY WELL what, Randy. Stan just burst out of _this_ house, upset because for about the millionth time, **_you_** wouldn’t let him tell you about this big important step in his life!”

Randy’s head fell back, eyes to the ceiling and he groaned. “I don’t want to HEAR about that, Sharon! It’s going to ruin everything for him! He had to quit all his _teams_ , and he’ll never get to college on a sports scholarship like we thought!”

Sharon gawked at him openly. “ **Randy**. What does Stan being bisexual have to do with SPORTS?”

“Well, I mean, he can’t be on the team like that!” Randy waved his arms around expansively.

Sharon groaned loudly. “Randy, you IDIOT. Is _that_ what this is about? That’s not true!”

“Sharon! Name one gay kid in South Park who is allowed to participate in team sports! ONE. You can’t, because they’ll discriminate against him! Against our boy, Sharon!” He sounded tearful. “And he knows it. That’s why Stan isn’t on the team,” he finished weakly, looking away despondently and swigging from his beer.

“Ohhh my God, Randy. Stan isn’t on the team because he just LOST interest.  It’s like you and _woodworking_ for God’s sake. It has nothing to do with discrimination.”

“How do you know! How do you know, Sharon?”

Sharon muffled a frustrated shout in her hand. When Randy seemed like he was going to speak again she threw both her hands out, unable to stand hearing another ridiculous word. “BECAUSE, _Randy_ , Kyle is one of the star players on the basketball team!”

She paused, wincing. “Not that I should have told you that because it is NOT my information to share.” She covered her eyes, irritable and upset. “ _Dammit_ , Randy.”

Randy stared at her. “Kyle? Kyle is…”

Sharon said nothing, though whether she was more furious with herself or Randy was anyone’s guess. Her mouth was a thin, angry line; her arms crossed in front her of her chest.

Randy looked lost. “But maybe the school doesn’t know? Or-or his classmates? And that’s why-”

“NO, Randy. Pretty much _everyone_ knows. If they have ears. He doesn’t try to hide it. No one _cares_ that he’s on the team. STAN does not WANT to play football. There is nothing more deep to it than that.”

Randy stumbled over to the couch, sitting down heavily. “He…he doesn’t _want_ to play football?”

“No, Randy. He does not. He has not wanted to in _years_. He occasionally _says_ something about it, hoping _you’ll_ finally understand.” She threw her hands in the air. “What is WRONG with you?”

Randy’s face crumpled up, his voice growing weepy again. “I just, I-I just wanted a son who was good at _sports_ , someone I could _talk_ to!”

Sharon rolled her eyes, hands on her hips. “Well we don’t get to decide those things about our children, Randy. That’s not how it works.”

He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. “I know. I know that.”

Sharon was feeling past exasperation now, years of pent up frustration on Stan’s behalf pouring out. “Well, you certainly haven’t been acting like it! And you’re pushing our son away; he doesn’t feel like you **love** him! He thinks you’re not interested in him. And you _of all people_ should care that your son likes music and science and these sorts of things! Why do you have to get so hung up over _athletics_?

Randy pulled at his hair miserably. “Ohhh God. You’re right. You’re so _right_ , Sharon. I’ve been… ughhh. I just, I guess I always pictured having the whole deal, you know?”

He looked off into the middle distance, presumably through his own memories, the bottle hanging loosely in his hand. “My old man never came to my games much or got really involved with my teams, so I always said if _my kid_ did a sport I’d keep up with it and I guess I just…I miss it? I felt so _involved_. Like I was part of it, too, somehow?”

He took a swig, grimacing. “Ughhh that’s not great, is it? That’s weird.”

“Well, it’s a little self-centered, certainly,” Sharon scowled. “Your child’s activities are NOT supposed to be about YOU!”

Randy groaned. “Ughh. I fucked it all up, Sharon. Shaaaron. Oh God. And now he thinks I don’t care? Ohh God. What if he stays with the Broflovski kid forever, and they don’t like me, and I don’t get invited to their gay wedding-”

Sharon huffed. “First of all, Randy, it’s just called a “wedding”. Second of all,” her expression softened a little at his frightened misery, “I think Stan will forgive you, with time.” She frowned. “IF you make an effort!” She shook her head, “And I don’t think Kyle hates you either.”

Randy brightened a little at that. “Really?” He looked drunkenly contemplative for a moment, staring at the wall. “Do- do you think Kyle could get Stan to play again?”

Sharon hissed impatiently. “RANDY _MARSH_. That’s enough! Stan’s not going to play! And, honestly, I think you’re being very foolish, aren’t you? Don’t you see that if you leave the boys alone in peace, you’ll still have KYLE to talk to about sports? **IF** he even wants to after how you’ve been behaving!”

Randy’s face lit up. “My GOD. You’re right Sharon!” he beamed, excited. “I can just keep talking to KYLE about his basketball!”

Sharon sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “AND?”

Randy frowned for a moment, concentrating. “Oh! And I can talk to Stan about his music! And uh, school?” He nodded, pointing at her. “Yeah! That’ll work!” He sat back, satisfied, like he’d just brokered peace in the Middle East.

 _Honestly?_ Sharon thought. She sighed and went to go put away the groceries before they spoiled. Well. Progress, anyway. _That took long enough_.

* * *

 

Meanwhile, Stan had found Kyle to tell him the big news.

“You did WHAT?” Kyle was staring at him, half stretched over his bed, a handful of sheets in his hand.  Stant took the time to admire Kyle’s back muscles as he straightened to turn and face him. Stan had forgotten today was Sunday (the Broflovskis’ chore- day) and Kyle had been halfway through making his bed when Stan showed up. Kyle was staring at him, open-mouthed. “You said all that? Just like that?”

Stan fidgeted from foot to foot, nervously. “Yeah. So?”

Kyle was on him the next minute, arms around his neck, laughing. “I’m so proud for you Stan!”

Stan grinned broadly, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. _Oh thank God_. He’d been concerned that Kyle might not have liked the tactless way it all went down, but it wasn’t exactly like Randy had left Stan a lot of choices, honestly.

He looked up into Kyle’s eyes, happier than he felt his body had room for. “No more hiding, Kyle. I don’t care how he deals.” He lifted Kyle’s knuckles to his mouth kissing them and then bringing the hand to his chest. “I’ve wanted this for _so long_.”

Kyle’s eyes were getting a little wet. “Dude…”

Stan grinned. “Yeah.” He hugged him, close and tight.

 

* * *

 

Kyle and Stan had a very good time at the school dance, even when someone (Kenny, let’s be honest) spiked the punch, causing the teachers to freak out and end it early. Rather than rushing home to face interrogation about whether or not they’d been drinking, Stan and Kyle decided on the path of what Butters called “Schrödinger’s Grounding” (“Am I grounded? Maybe? Maybe not? With this phone off, I can’t find out till I go home, fellas!”) They went out to eat instead.

Butters and Kenny decided to join them at City Wok in what none of them were allowed to refer to as a “double-date” in case someone snitched to the Stotches. _Say that Dr. Seuss-sounding shit ten times fast_ Stan thought, dizzily happy as he led Kyle by the hand to their booth. Holding hands. In public. He turned to smile at Kyle, squeezing his strong hand tightly. Kyle grinned at him, laughing a little.

“It’s good to see you in such good spirits, Stan,” he murmured.

Stan leaned in, kissing his cheek. “Happy Anniversary, Kyle.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh, how'd I do? Were the boys alright? I'm dying to know, guys. ._. 
> 
>  
> 
> I just always think it's so odd that people assume Stan would stick with sports just because of a natural talent at it, when Kyle seems like the one with actual athletic aspirations. I've really loved some "Stan's the jock one" stories a lot! But I feel they sometimes come at the expense of making Kyle "ONLY a bookish type", and ignoring how rounded he is with his basketball dreams.
> 
> So for once I wanted to see this story: Stan's *done* with sports, he's the sensitive, poetic one for once, and Kyle is the one bringing home trophies. And they're pretty happy with that.
> 
> P.S. I love Sharon Marsh. A lot.  
> Meanwhile, I know Randy is not everyone's favorite, and honestly I find him annoying myself most of the time, but I think he's so annoying because we all know someone who *reminds* us of Randy- so I tried to write him slightly more like a real person/parent. Randy's a self-centered fool who handles everything wrong out of ignorance and fear; he loves his son, he's just not very good at it.
> 
> (And for anyone reading my other stories; new updates soon!)


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